


Manflu

by spadequeen



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-21 10:18:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2464685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spadequeen/pseuds/spadequeen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris gets sick with flu.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Manflu

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MarginalMadness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarginalMadness/gifts).



“I’m going to die.”

“You’ll be fine, Fenris, just finish your soup.”

He groaned as a response while Bethany tried to hold back from laughing again.

Fenris, the one and only Lyrium Warrior who is known for his fearlessness and endurance, was sick…with flu.

And he wasn’t taking this well at all.

On the road to Ferelden, he was still wearing that thin spiky armor, and even she had asked many times, he refused to share her cloak. So it was only natural for him to get sick in this cold Ferelden weather. Therefore, today was the day Bethany being able to see the transition from strong warrior to grumpy old man, which was nothing but amusing for her.

He was now covered up with blankets, his head resting on her leg, a vulnerable expression on his face, like a confused puppy.

“How come you’re not sick?”

“I’m Fereldan, remember? I’m used to this weather. Actually only person I’ve seen got flu was Father. Because of the Circle life I suppose. After years of experiencing his sickness drama, Father was quite funny actually, Mother ensured we all had good immune systems growing up.”

Fenris wanted to say something before he sneezed.

_Maker, he even sneezes like a puppy._

She was smiling when he asked, “Do you think this is funny?”

“Not at all. I just have to find something black to wear.”

“Something black?”

“Yes. It’s a Ferelden mourning tradition.”

Fenris slowly turned his head to her, the wet cloth on his forehead sliding down.

“Since you’re definitely going to die, I have to be prepared for the unavoidable. For forty days I shall wear black.”

“And on the forty first?”

“Something red for showing I am available.”

The look on his face was priceless.

“Well as a young widow, it’s only natural for me to seek a new husband. Maybe that blacksmith, what was his name? Aiden, yes, he seems strong.”

“I’m fine,” he declared.

“Sorry?”

“I’m fine, look.” Fenris took her hand to his forehead.

He was better, but not quite.

Bethany kissed his forehead and looked into his sad puppy eyes, “It would be terrible living without you.”

He beamed at her.

“Now finish your soup.”


End file.
